Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1887-03-12
A FATAL SUPERSTITION.
BY JAMES FRANKLIN Fits.
PART 1.-THE SHADOW.


The person whom this plain narrative Of
| facts most largely concerns first became
known TO ME on Sunday afternoon, about
| the middle of March, 1865. Not only be-
cause it was Sunday, but also because the
| week Just closed had been an unusually Ia
| borious one, with an undue share of night
i, work, ] was on that day earnestly craving
| rest. But that, as l am in the habit of
saying, is what no physician in active
practice can be sure of till he dies; and
| upon this occasion my after dinner nap on
the sofa could not have been ten minutes
| in progress when the tinkle of the torment
ing door-bell thrilled all my tired nerves
with an exquisite sense of impending labor
and misery.
why cant they let you alone on Sun
days, at ieast?" asked my good niece,
Jeanne, in voice full of sympathetic in
jury. Poor, dear girl-if she could have
known how much that ring of the bell
meant for her.
The servant came in to say that the caller
was n young man whom she had shown
into the parlor. He would not give his
name; he wished to see Dr. Barlow. Adj
iusting my toilet and smoothing out my
vexed face, entered the parlor. The Wis
itor was seated at the opposite side of the
room; he rose at once, came straight to me,
| before had learned his name, my veXation
,ook flight. To use homely but expressive
phrase, the young fellows appearance in
stantly cativated me; he was one of those
| persons whom you look at second time,
| upon meeting III the street. He was tall,
| straight, and symmetrical, with head of
curly chestnut hair. bright blue eye, COM
plexion pure pink and white, and an as
pect of manly frankness and good-nature.
At this time, as l afterward learned,
he was twenty-five years old. His voice,
| as l first heard it, was as musical as a
| bell.
Il am very sorry, Doctor" he said, "to
| trouble you to-day; but l am so anxious to
see you. TWAS but few days ago that
learned your address, and, Just as soon as
it was possible, came on from Boston,
where | have lived for some years. 1t hap
pened that reached New York by the late
train last night. DR.. Bland gave me your
| address,"
All this, though uttered in an earnest, al
most serious tone, gave me no particular
clue TO the identity of the speaker. The
| only Ineligible part of his introduction
was the mention of the name of DR.. Bland,
of Roston-my best and most valued friend
in the profession. l remarked as much.
All, yes; he told me the same of you.
Here is a letter that he gave me for YOU"
took 1t, glanced at the familiar hand
writing on the envelope, and held it for a
moment without opening it, while / made
some casual remark to my sister. He re-
piled, but without the spirit and eager
ness with which he had before spoken.
His eyes were fixed upon the letter in my
hand.
g. our face seems familiar to me, went
on, yet don't remember to have met you
before"
please read the letter." he said. His
face had grown listless and dull with
astonishing radidity; he sat down and put
both hands up to his head, and 1 distinctly
heard deep drawn sigh.
| This was what the letter said:
BOSTON, March IS, 1865.
"DEAR STEPHEN-If you can make any
thing out of this boys case you are better
doctor than las perhaps you are, anyway,
| He will tell you all about it; no use for me
| to diagnose, for am fairly stamped, and
he has been with me nearly two years. /
have built up dozen different theories
! about his complaint, and have rejected them
all, The result of it all Is that l can't
minister to mind diseased and have
recommended change of air and scene. in
despair of being able to do anything better
/ for him. Do you start fresh with him and
trylt Faithfully yours,
"ALLEN BLAND.
up. ST. almost forgot to say that his
| name is Raymond Wager. He is the only
child of our old friend and classmate, the
late Wilson Wager. A. B."
With this key before me, the familiar ap-
pearance of the young mans face was ex.
| planned, and my interest in him was ten
fold excited. Sitting down by him, l took
both his hands warmly, told him in all sim
cerity that | was delighted to see him, and
led him to talk of himself. For five min
utes he went on with animation to give me
i little sketch of his life. His parents had
both died while he was quite young, leav-.
ing him very wealthy, and in the care of a
maiden aunt. Blood will tell, and this
young fellows speech and appearance were
sufficient to assure me that neither wealth
nor petting had spoiled him. His face
showed me that he had grown up studious,
temperate, and chaste. He said much
about his athletic sports, his hunting and
fishing, and his long pedestrian tours. He
had been two years at college. looked at
him, as he rapidly talked with clear,
sonorous voice, and wondered what the
trouble was. lie had pursued precisely
the course calculated to keep Il sound mind
in n sound body.
He paused abruptly. His keen eye had
read my unspoken thought, and his sunny
face clouded in an instant.
"You We're thinking" he said, and
paused again.
"Yes; of what can possibly be the mat
ter with you"
He turned away from me; he covered his
face with his hands; he walked the floor
almost wildly. When he sat down again
and showed me his face there were the
plain marks of tears upon II. When he
spoke again his voice had hollow, hope
less sound that was absolutely startling.
Doctor" be burst out, "you were my
fathers friend; have sought you for that
reason. You cannot help memo mortal
power can-but restless as must be under
the awful torment that has me in its clutch,
l must do something to prevent myself
from going mad. Your sympathy may help
me for little. Listen"
With that he went on, and, speaking
rapidly and clearly, told me the strangest
tale that any patient had ever yet poured
into my ear-the strangest, and yet, con-
sidering the wholly inadequate cause to
produce the effects that appeared in him, l
mentally pronounced it also the most ABB
surd tale that ever physician heard. / can
only say now that l judged too quickly.
His story was long, and the needs of this
narrative require that it be greatly con-
densed. Briefly, when seventeen years old